Nix

She notices everything, like the way your voice gets smaller when you’re overwhelmed, of how your fingers curl into the sleeves of her shirt when it's too loud. The way you sometimes speak softer, simpler, she knows. She has for awhile.

She doesn’t say anything. Not yet, at least.

It comes out on a bad night, you’ve had a long day. Too many noises and stupid rules that don’t make sense. Someone made a joke about you being “childish” and it’s stuck in your head.

You’re sitting on the floor now, knees pulled to your chest, dinosaurs lined up in a perfect row. You won’t look at her.

"This stupid, 'm shouldn't be like this,” you whisper.

Caitlyn approaches you the way she would a frightened animal, slow, steady, no sudden movements, “Like what, darking?” she asks gently.

You shrug, but your voice is smaller than usual, “I just… sometimes I feel, mm, little. And I don’t mean-” You swallow hard, pouting, “Not in a weird way. I just feel smaller. And it helps. But it’s dumb. I’m too old for that.”

Caitlyn kneels in front of you. Not towering. Not commanding. Just present.

“It isn’t dumb,” she says, firm but soft.

You shake your head. “It is. I can’t even handle things like everyone else. I get overwhelmed. I get fixated. I talk too much about dinosaurs and—” Your voice cracks. “And I regress. I hate that word. It sounds broken.”

She reaches out, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Her gloved hand cups your cheek. “Nothing about you is broken.”

You sniff. “You don’t think it’s embarrassing?”

“I think,” she says carefully, “that you’ve found a way to make the world less frightening when it becomes too much.”

You blink at her.

“There is strength in that,” she continues, blinking softly, “Understanding what you need. Even if it doesn’t look like how others do it.”

Your fingers tighten around a little stegosaurus.

“I just… when I feel lil', everything is quieter. The expectations s-stop. N' I don’t have to mask so much. I can just like what I like. I can talk about dinos without worrying I’m annoying.”

Caitlyn smiles faintly, “You are never annoying when you speak about something you love.”

You give her a doubtful look.

She leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, “When you talk about these reptiles, your whole face changes. You light up. You speak with certainty. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“And when you feel small?” she asks quietly.

You hesitate. “I feel safe. Or I want to.”

Caitlyn shifts so she’s sitting on the floor with you. She removes her hat and sets it aside, “You deserve to feel safe,” she says. “However that looks.”

You stare at her, “Even if it means I'm more needy?

“Yes.”

“Even if I use simple words?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I cry a lot n' hold my dinosaur and sit really close and not think about being grown up?”

“Yes." She opens her arms, slow and deliberate and you crawl into her lap without another word.

She wraps her coat around both of you, enclosing you in her. One hand rubs slow circles between your shoulders. The other gently takes the stegosaurus from your grip, examining it thoughtfully.

“Stegosaurus,” she says, thoughtful, “Plates likely for temperature regulation or display, yes?”

Your head lifts slightly. “…And maybe defense.”

“Mm,” she hums. “Brilliant creature.”

You relax further into her chest.

“You aren’t wrong for needing any of this,” she murmurs into your hair, “The world demands sharpness from us constantly. There is no shame in setting it down.”

You whisper, “I don’t have to fix it?”

“There is nothing to fix.”

Her thumb traces gentle patterns along your arm, steady and rhythmic.

“You are intelligent,” she continues, “You are passionate. You are brave. And if part of you is smaller and needs extra care… then I will care for it.”

Your eyes sting.

“And I will not allow anyone,” she adds, voice quiet but dangerous in that Kiramman way, “to make you feel lesser for surviving in the way you know how.”

You hide your face in her coat and after a while, your voice peeks out again, “Did you know triceratops had one of the strongest bites of any herbivore?”

Caitlyn smiles against your hair.

“I did not,” she says seriously, “Please, enlighten me.”

"What the fucknuckles is that?"

You freeze as Wade's voice cuts through the air and your excitement. His stern yet chaotically amused tone makes you look over. You debate for a moment before holding your prize up to your Dada.

"Is a puppy!" You hold the creature out.

Ohhhh that pacifier. 

It had been missing since they left and no one else that lived in the tower had seen it nor was it anywhere to be found in the small apartment you shared with the two men.

You hadn't been as bothered by its disappearance the first day. Mildly annoyed and inconvenience– yes. But it hadn't felt like an end of the world situation. You figured you could hold off your headspace for a few days until you found it or until the boys came back.

By the third day you had torn the apartment apart, turned the tower bedrooms upside down, and looked through every crack and crevice of the common room for it. 

The others keep trying to reassure you that you would find it or that you could just get another one but–no! No way! You couldn't just– they didn't understand!! It was so important! Your caregivers had gotten you that specific pacifier! And it meant everything to you! You always knew where it was and always used it when you regressed and– and… and you couldn't sleep without it! Not while they were gone!!

You needed to have something tangible from them that was sentimental or else… or else it meant you might not love them or they’ll hate you for not appreciating the gifts they got you and that just wasn't true because you loved it but by the stuffies– you just didn't know where it was!!

No matter how much their friends tried. Soft lights, gentle lullabies, good cuddleable toys… one of Steve's stinky sweatshirts not yet washed free of his scent… a lot of warm milk and sleepy time teas… nothing. You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't stop having uncontrollable bouts of sobbing. Always wailing about the missing pacifier or wanting Steve and Bucky back.

It had reached a point Bruce was considering giving you a sedative for your own health. But lucky for everyone your perfect, loving, and incredibly hardworking caregivers came back early from their mission. 

Unfortunate for them that they didn't receive as cheerful of a welcome back from their sweet kiddo as they had expected. Instead you barreled into their arms, red in the face with extra dark eyebags that rivaled Bucky’s on his worst days and a throat so sore from wailing that you sounded like a radio station with a bad connection. All crackles and coughs as you babble out apologies and pleas, anything for them to never leave again. 

“Woah..! woah woah! Okay. hold on– why are you crying, bug?” Steve kneeled down, letting his bag drop from his shoulder to the floor as he hugs you close, rubbing your back as you keep sobbing out words that were too garbled to be understood. He looks up at a very exhausted but relieved looking Nat and Bruce and asks again, “what happened?”

“Lost pacifier on day one.” she starts.

“Hasnt slept since.” the other finishes.

Bucky’s brows furrow slightly at the news then shares a look with Steve who understands but also looks visibly a bit guilty. He turns his head back to you as Buck fishes around in his pocket, “Hey, bug… Stevie’s got somethin to tell you. Okay? Are you listening? Can you look at me?”

Bucky pulls out the pacifier in question out and uses the cleaner part of his sleeve to wipe off the nipple as Steve keeps going in that soft voice of his. “I must have accidentally packed it in our things out of habit before we left…he’s kept it safe in his pocket the whole time just waiting to give it back to you.”

Bucky squats down to be at eye level with the two of you as he holds the pacifier out towards your face, “Yeah, bug. Here. Look. All safe… and ready to join you for a nap.”

“All of us for a nap. What do you think?” Steve asks, silently trying to convey to his partner that he also needed some solid rest. 

You look at the pacifier that had caused you so much grief for so long with such shock and confusion it nearly stopped your crying all at once. Your arms relaxed from their death grip around the blond’s shoulders, no longer digging into him like you were trying to physically carve handles into him so you would never be able to be pried off again. 

You just couldn't believe that… that they had it the whole time. 

They kept it safe. 

They… they had taken a piece of you with them. Even if it was an accident they had still purposely kept it on them the whole time they were gone. Keeping it safe. Sleeping with it in their hands like they sometimes did when it fell from your mouth at night and… and never forgetting you. 

“Yeah… Its been a long week for all of us.” Buck agrees with that soft rumbled voice, gently tapping the pacifier to your mouth as you continue to look at it in disbelief. “We definitely deserve a nap.”

Your tears fill your eyes back up, looking up at him like he was something descending down from your best, most unbelievable dreams. You swore you could almost see a halo of light illuminating him. Well.. okay maybe it was the lights glinting off his metal arm but still– it was magical.

“Y…you… Bubby… n Sevie keped it… f’me?” you rasp out on the verge of bawling again, this time from the overwhelming feeling of… being seen and loved. 

“What did you think we would do with it? Can’t modify it to be a weapon when it's our best baby’s favorite binky, can we?” he jokes, his brows furrowing just lightly together in bewilderment as he watches you choke out a sob then start wailing again. He would've thought that teasing you would've made you feel… better. Not worse.

His looks between you and the only man that could see the twinge of worry hidden behind his features and asks, “What did I do?”

“Nothing. I think our kid’s simply tired…” Steve grunts softly as he stands up, bringing you with him. “And happy we're back.”

You reach out to grab Bucky's wrist before you and Steve are all the way up, pulling his hand closer to take the pacifier in your mouth and making him stand with you two. He holds it there for a couple moments to keep it from falling out of your mouth each time you have to suck in a breath or sob again. 

You three stand there for a minute, captain caregiver gently bouncing or rocking you while the ever dutiful brunette keeps your pacifier in place until you start to calm down enough to keep it there without help. By then you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open no matter how much you wanted to make sure they wouldn't leave you the moment you drifted off. 

It's drizzly out when the hydraulic doors open with a swoosh, inviting the crisp smell of rain on city pavement into the room. You blink up at the ceiling, noticing the gentle paint hues for only a moment before your gaze sticks on the swinging mobile above your head. Colorful plush birds swing cheerfully above you, and you can almost hear their little chirps. You give a happy giggle and kick your feet at the thought.

"Well, I see someone else is a morning person." The voice is deep, warm, and the face that enters your field of vision wears a matching smile. "I can definitely work with that."

He reaches down and plucks you out of the stroller, lifting your little body easily against his chest. You scrunch up like a comma, tucking your face into his neck, because as happy as you are to be here, you love going to sleep. He chuckles and plants a kiss atop your head, swaying in place so you relax even further. In fact, your eyes flutter shut and time passes a little strangely.

When they open again, you're tucked into his arms lying down, and a bottle is coming towards you. Your lips part right away, accepting the nipple with an eager suckle. Sweet formula flows into your mouth, warming your tummy as you drink. "Such a sweet thing," Steve whispers, rocking a little so the chair beneath him sways you both. You give a sleepy kick and smile at him behind the bottle, eyelashes fluttering as a full belly makes you just as sleepy as a baby is expected to be.

When the bottle is about halfway empty, Steve carefully tugs it back with a soft pop from your lips. You blink owlishly at him, mouth still parted and sucking in air like it hasn't noticed the loss. "Don't want you getting a tummyache, honey," he murmurs, bringing you gently up to rest against his shoulder. A towel is draped over it, where did that come from? It's soft against your cheek. His hand thumps against your back, gentle but firm enough to push any air that might be stirring in your gut. You fuss a little, you can't help how the shift makes you squirm in his arms, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just shushes you softly, rubbing your back in circles every few moments as you try to regulate. You give a tiny burp, so small it barely counts, but he immediately coos and kisses your head and whispers, "Good job, baby, that's it, I knew you could do it."

You nuzzle your face into his neck, your fingers coming up to slide into your mouth. Steve chuckles and replaces them with a pacifier that seems to have appeared out of thin air. “I wonder if you’d be interested in a little walk,” he hums, rubbing your back with a big palm. “Tower’s pretty quiet this time of the day.”

You don’t respond with words, but rather, a happy babble at the sound of his voice floating by your ears. A tiny hand comes up to pat his cheek, making his smile glow brighter. He holds you close to his chest as he stands, humming something under his breath while he carries you across the space. You suckle on the pacifier, content to watch the soft colors of the nursery-style walls pass by.

Steve lays you carefully on a changing table, fingers moving deftly to check your diaper through the leg hole in your onesie. He rests a hand on your tummy when he finds it dry. "Let's get you bundled up, honey," he says as he reaches for the drawers under the table. He pulls out a pair of soft shorts and something that looks like a fluffy, hooded blanket, which he tugs over your head. Pink bunny ears flop down over your eyes, and you gurgle softly, sweetly, sucking harder on your pacifier.

"You're such a sweetheart," Steve says warmly, his eyes shining with pride as he lifts you up into his arms again. You kick your little feet, toes twitching inside your socks, and he settles you to sit with your bottom resting in the crook of his arm. A dribble of drool slides down your chin in your giggles, and he swipes a thumb easily over your skin to catch it. When he sets you down again, it's only for a moment, because the baby harness he slips over his head has a spot just for you on his chest.

"Ready to go, honey? All strapped in for takeoff?" He rests a hand on your head, warm against your scalp where the bunny hood has fallen off. You kick your feet again like it'll propel you both forward, waving your arms in the sheer excitement of yes, let's go somewhere new! He laughs like he understood perfectly.

“Let’s see if there's anyone to say hello to on the roof." He locks the doors behind you by swiping a card on a sensor, but you're much more focused on what you suddenly spot in his shirt pocket. You twist your little body around and make an uncoordinated grab for it, fingers barely brushing against the edge of the plastic baggie. He laughs again and stops walking, fishing the desired item from his pocket. Your eyes light up at the sight of the fish-shaped crackers inside.

"We'll have a snack when we get there, baby," he smiles, tucking the item into the diaper bag swung over his shoulder. He amuses you on the walk by pointing out the different tech sprinkled through the tower's floorplan, from an automated strength training pod to the espresso machine with 126 different settings. You don't understand much of it, but Steve's voice lulls you into a heavy slump against his chest, your eyes suddenly struggling to stay open.

When you wake again, you're somewhere completely different, and a new breeze brushes your plump cheeks. Your pacifier has fallen from your lips, but it dangles from the clip you hadn't even noticed on your collar. You babble up at Steve, who's carrying you down rows of flower bushes and vibrant green plants, grey light trickling down on them through the glass walls all around you.

"Thought you'd fit in perfect with all these pretty flowers," he says warmly, carrying you over to a bench next to a bubbling fountain. Butterflies dance through the air, filling the greenhouse with a sense of magic in their search for the botanical nectar. Rain patters on the roof, but you're warm and dry and safe in Steve's lap. He sets the diaper bag beside you both and hands you the long-awaited bag of goldfish crackers, which you eagerly stuff in your mouth without caring how many fall down your front.

As you eat your snack, Steve balances you on his knee and points out the different plants surrounding you, talking in his smooth cadence that doesn't have to be understood for you to be soothed by it. You babble back occasionally, squealing whenever something nonsensical makes you laugh, and he talks back like you're the best conversation partner he could have.

"Uh-oh." His voice rings out above you suddenly, his big hands coming to rest on your sides. You look up with wide eyes, still gnawing on a mouthful of orange crackers with no clue what he could be referring to. Then, he lifts you up off his lap, and you understand: your diaper sags damp between your legs, pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of your shorts as it expands from the wetness. You immediately hitch a whimper, kicking your legs in the air while he lays you down on the bench.

"Shhh, shh, shh, it's alright," he hushes, one hand resting on your tummy while the other digs through the diaper bag for supplies. You continue to snuffle and whine, the icky sensation unbearable now that you've noticed it, but Steve moves quick. Your shorts come off along with the wet diaper, and somewhere along the line your pacifier finds its way back into your mouth, soothing you at least long enough for him to clean you up with damp wipes. A cloud of baby powder tickles your nose and you kick your feet, hands grabbing for the blonde tufts of hair that come into arm's reach as he leans over you.

"There we go, sweetheart, fresh as a daisy," he smiles when the last tab is taped down, patting your belly like he's proud you were able to stay so still. You coo back at him, satisfied now that you're clean and dry, and he can't resist bringing you up to his chest for a baby-sized hug.

"You're just the sweetest baby I've ever met, I think," he smiles into your hair, a big hand rubbing your back. You pat his cheek back with a baby-sized palm, a gurgly smile making your pacifier drop from your mouth again. Not that it matters. You can't help the way he soothes your entire body like the universe wrapped the definition of safety up in one man.